April 25, 2014
When I was nine, I moved from my cozy home in Maine to Pennsylvania. It was a quiet affair overall, at least, the way my friends acted about it made it seem so. Of course, at home, it wasn’t like that. I believe it was then that my mother and sister began fighting. She didn’t want to move, no one did, but she began blaming it on our mother because she hadn’t been faithful to my dad. That made our mother blow a gasket of course, they began to go rounds while my little sister, so innocent and sheltered, cried about them fighting. She was too young to understand.
I didn’t lack with understanding the situation, but I lacked in the knowledge of making them stop. Though, I was in emotional turmoil. You’d think your friends that you’ve been with since Kindergarten would show more support about your moving. Yet, they began acting as if I didn’t exist a few days after I told them, almost as if I had never existed. I tried to get them to come over, but they were always busy. I was broken, my anger began to flare again, I began to hate everyone and I would cry until I fell asleep every night.
When I moved, I hoped things would get better. Yet, they got worse.
I arrived to my Pennsylvania not even two weeks before the end of school. At first, other classmates treated me kindly, at least the higher grade, whom would soon depart for the middle school did. Then, summer began and ended. I returned to school feeling alone and out casted.
Luckily, I had gotten used to being alone during the summer. My daily activities included reading the same books again and again, riding my bike, and listening to music. I returned to school a completely different person than when I lived in Maine.
I was introverted, I couldn’t stand crowds and I couldn’t stand the popular kids. Three things I had never been until then. The year was long, classmates gave me hell verbally and a snot nosed fourth grader took measures to make sure I stayed down. Yet, I wasn’t truly bothered. There were underclassmen that saw me as a good person, but, at the time, I assumed that was because their upperclassmen and usual bully had found a new target. Now, I know why they liked me, because I never snitched on those people who picked on me. I never retaliated. I got back up, with or without tears in my eyes. I did my best to speak with them and stayed kind. I sniffed out cliques who didn’t hate me, but shunned me because they didn’t want to deal with the popular kids getting on their case.
By the time school ended that year, I had changed again.
I was still introverted, I still hated crowds, and I loathed popular kids. Yet, I loved socializing. I stood independent from the mainstream. My confidence was at a high. I had achieved the Hierarchy of Needs, I had almost reached the point of self actualization. I felt as if I could take on my inner demons and be covered for life.
Half a year later, I moved again. I believed I could withstand the oncoming storm.
I almost lost myself.
